Tijuana Death Match
by Calcitrix
Summary: The title says it all...LJ, Ripcord, Low Light, Shipwreck, Gung Ho.


Lady Jaye wove her way through the crowd of screaming, cheering, and jumping people. She couldn't believe any place on earth could be this chaotic. Once she had given up on fretting over the details, though—which happened at about the third beer—she found she was actually having fun. Someone backed into her, and the bottles she carried clanked together dangerously. "Mirelo!" she yelled in rebuke, knowing it would do no good. Everyone was completely focused on the ring in the center of the room. It was barely raised off the ground; just enough to be visible from nearly anywhere on the main floor or from the second floor balconies that ringed the entire building.

She finally made it back to the table and set down the bottles of beer. Each of her teammates eagerly grabbed one, hardly turning their heads away from the action at the center of the room. Lady Jaye took her own beer, leaving a lone bottle sitting on the stained wood. She counted heads and turned toward Lowlight. "Where's Shipwreck?" Her voice was nearly drowned out as a roar from the crowd shook the dingy windows.

"Dunno. He must have headed to the bathroom," Lowlight shouted back. He leaned back in his chair and casually took a swig of beer. Lady Jaye noticed that his eyes scanned the room as he did so. She was glad that one of them was looking out for trouble, at least. She doubted anything would happen here, but you never knew. Even if half the stories she'd heard about Tijuana weren't true, that still left quite a batch to pick from. It was no wonder Cobra had tried to recruit from the area, but they had already been moving out when the Joe team caught up to them. Apparently bribing the local police had been too expensive. That left the Joes with an easy mission and a little time to relax before heading back to base.

"What did I miss?" Lady Jaye tried to figure out who was winning, but at any given point in the match, it was hard to tell. The two wrestlers circled each other now, crouched low and wary.

Gung Ho answered her this time. "Mano Del Sino—he's the one wearing all black—just pounded Verdugo into the mat," the marine said with glee.

"How much do you have riding on him, again?" Ripcord laughed.

The big man shrugged, wincing as his wrestler was in turn thrown to the ground. "No idea. How much is a thousand Pesos?"

"Ninety one dollars and thirty four cents," Lady Jaye answered promptly. She returned the others' amused looks. "What? You already know I'm the smart one—stop staring at me like that."

"She's also buying the beers, so lay off," Low Light added. He pumped his fist in the air as Verdugo was tossed against the ropes.

Gung Ho rubbed his hands together. "As soon as I get my money, I'll buy the next round." He leaned forward eagerly, sure that the match was moments away from being over.

Everyone at the table fell silent as Verdugo tottered unsteadily off the ropes and took a shaky step toward his opponent, Mano Del Sino. The hefty wrestler was already parading around the ring to the sound of applause, sure of his victory. He went down hard, completely unprepared, as his opponent barreled into him from behind.

The crowd went wild. Gung Ho leapt to his feet to get a better view. "Dang! Can't see what's happenin' down there," he muttered. "Is Mano down?"

Lady Jaye climbed onto her chair, putting her head a few inches above the tall marine's. "Yep, he's down and out. Tough luck, Gung Ho."

They settled back in their seats as the ring was cleared for the next match. The noise level decreased just enough to speak at a normal volume. Ripcord added his empty beer bottle to the pile under the table. "Hey, guys, I think this is a record. We've been in a bar with Shipwreck for three hours and haven't gotten kicked out, into a fight, or arrested."

"You could probably start a knife fight in this place and no one would care," Lady Jaye pointed out. "Look, they're getting ready for the next match." She pointed to the ring, where the bartender was picking up the microphone. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, and the crowd "Ooohed" appreciatively.

"What's he saying, Jaye?" Gung Ho asked.

"Something about a new challenger," she said. "Hang on…Ok, the next match is between 'El Baron Rojo'—the Red Baron—and…it sounds like…'the rabid balls?' That can't be right."

"He said, 'El Cajun Rabioso," Shipwreck informed her, squeezing through the last gap to stand behind her chair. "Hey, Gung Ho, could I talk to you for a minute?" Shipwreck crooked a finger and headed back into the crowd.

Gung Ho stood with a frown. "Why do I think I'm not gonna like this?" he muttered, following.

The other three Joes shared an uneasy glance. "El Cajun Rabioso?" Lady Jaye repeated. "My Spanish isn't fantastic, but—Ohmygod!" She stood up and whipped her head around, trying to catch a glimpse of her two teammates in the crowd of people.

Ripcord and Lowlight tensed, partly rising from their chairs, unable to determine why Lady Jaye was so worked up. "What is it?" Ripcord hissed, eyes darting.

"El Cajun Rabioso," she said slowly, this time pronouncing the words as she would in English. "The Raging Cajun!"

All three turned their attention to the center ring. "There," Lowlight said, pointing to two figures just to the side of the ropes. Shipwreck was gesturing frantically; Gung Ho stood with his arms crossed, but seemed to be nodding. Finally the bartender walked over, obviously telling them that it was time to start.

Lady Jaye, Ripcord, and Low Light watched in disbelief as Gung Ho climbed into the ring. "I can't believe Shipwreck talked him into it," Ripcord breathed, eyes wide.

The bartender lifted Gung Ho's hand into the air by way of introduction. The crowd this late at night was thrilled with anything new, and responded with a deafening roar. Gung Ho looked surprised for a moment, then bared his teeth in a growl and flexed his muscles. The audience cheered and whistled.

Shipwreck sat down at their table as Gung Ho's opponent was getting into the ring. The Red Baron was huge, but couldn't have been much bigger than Gung Ho. He was wearing red tights, a red cape, and aviator goggles. "Aw, the Ragin' Cajun can take that guy, easy," Shipwreck announced smugly.

"How much did you bet?" Low Light wanted to know.

Shipwreck smiled. "Nothin' we can't cover. Not that Gung Ho will lose, of course."

"Whaddya mean, 'nothing _we_ can't cover?'" Ripcord asked with a frown.

The sailor tried to look innocent. "I figured you'd all want to go in with me," he said. "I mean, it's our buddy out there." He waved toward the ring where the bartender was giving the rules, apparently still in Spanish judging by the blank look on Gung Ho's face.

"How much, Shipwreck?" Ripcord growled.

Lowlight tapped the paratrooper on the shoulder. "Shut up, will ya? They're starting. Besides, he's right—it's Gung Ho. We can't lose."

They watched in silence for a moment, the only ones in the throng not yelling themselves hoarse. "Except that Gung Ho has never learned the finer points of Mexican wrestling, it seems," Lady Jaye commented, wincing in sympathy as she watched the action.

"Ouch," Lowlight muttered a moment later.

"Come on, Gung Ho!" Shipwreck screamed. There was a loud thud, and he flinched. "Aw, jeez. He's holding back, right? I thought Gung Ho grew up wrestling alligators!"

"No one _actually_ wrestles alligators," Ripcord told him. "Besides, alligators can't wrench your thumb backwards like that."

Low Light shook his head. "Great move, Shipwreck. How much was the bet?"

For the first time, Shipwreck looked a little nervous. "Uh, Jaye, you can cover us, right?" He threw her a pleading look. "It's just that I seem to be a little short on cash…"

"It's not over yet," Ripcord reminded them as the first round finished. "Maybe Gung Ho just needed to get warmed up." They watched as Gung Ho doused his face in water and wiped it with a towel. He gave their table a quick glance and seemed to shrug in apology.

"Seriously, Shipwreck—how much?" Low Light asked again.

"Uh, I'm not sure, exactly. How much is 50,000 Pesos? That's like, two hundred dollars, right?"

Lady Jaye put her head in her hands. "Four thousand, five hundred and sixty seven dollars." She let her forehead fall to the table. "And twenty three cents."

The bell announcing the next round broke the silence. "Four thousand…" Ripcord whispered.

They all stood at once to cheer for Gung Ho, suddenly becoming the loudest table in the bar. They booed loudly as the Red Baron swept his legs under their friend.

Gung Ho picked himself off of the mat and gave his head a quick shake. Lady Jaye swore she could see his nostrils flare. The big marine rushed at the Red Baron, who stepped back too late. Gung Ho slammed into him, taking them both to the ground. "That's more like it!" Shipwreck hollered.

The tide seemed to turn at that point. Their teammate grinned wildly every time he threw the other man against the ropes or to the floor. He seemed to be in his element now. By the end of the second round, Gung Ho was obviously ahead.

"Sweet!" Shipwreck exclaimed. "The odds are four-to-one against! I'm gonna be rich!"

"We're gonna be rich," Ripcord amended. "If Gung Ho can keep it up for the last round."

They watched with bated breath as the two competitors circled the ring. From the get-go it was obvious that Gung Ho, now that he understood the other man's moves, would be the winner. The Joes missed several moments as the crowd around them hopped and cheered, obscuring their view. As the final bell rang, the crowd's roaring yells surged into a climax.

"I'm gonna get down there to get the money!" Shipwreck shouted, elbowing past their rowdy neighbors.

Lady Jaye saw Low Light tuck something back into his shirt as they took their seats. "What was that?" she asked him.

He gave her a small grin. "Never go anywhere without a camera," he replied.

The three waited for the return of their teammates, discussing what they'd do with their money and their remaining time in Tijuana. "Jaye, how much is that apiece?" Ripcord asked with a laugh.

She closed her eyes for a second and replied, "Three thousand, six hundred and fifty three dollars and seventy eight cents."

Low Light whistled. "That's a lot of beer."

Gung Ho returned to the table, sweaty but smiling. "Piece of cake," he told them.

"Then what happened the first round?" Ripcord asked. "You were getting pummeled for a while there."

The marine shrugged and took his seat. "I didn't want to hurt the guy," he said. "Shipwreck told me it was all fake, and that I was set up to win. I thought we'd just throw easy punches at each other for a while until he fell over."

Lady Jaye laughed. "That sounds like Shipwreck. He'd better watch his step around you for a while." She looked around for the sailor. "I hope he didn't skip out on us. He bet a pile of money on you."

Gung Ho scowled. "Figures. Ah, well. At least I won. What's my cut?"

"Three thousand, six hundred and fifty three dollars," she began.

"And seventy eight cents!" Lowlight and Ripcord finished.

"No, it's not." Shipwreck sat down, looking dejected. "I had to pay the entry fee, which didn't seem to exist when I first talked to the bartender." He claimed his half-finished beer and took a drink. "Then I had to bribe the local policemen so that I wouldn't get arrested for illegal gambling."

"So how much is left?" Ripcord asked.

Shipwreck sighed and pulled a bundle of bills from his pocket. "About three hundred Pesos."

They all looked at Lady Jaye. "Twenty seven dollars and forty cents," she said sadly.

Gung Ho stood and scooped up the money. "Well, I'd say I earned this." He watched their faces fall. "Oh, come on—how else am I gonna get the next couple rounds of beer?" he asked with a grin.

He headed through the crowd again and headed to the bar. The others settled back in their chairs, and Shipwreck leaned over toward Lady Jaye. "I hear there's women's wrestling in a bar down the street…"


End file.
